


how I long to be in the palm of your hand.

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While blood may taste like heaven when it's warm and gushing down Allison's throat, even after two centuries together, she still prefers how it tastes when she licks it from Lydia's mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how I long to be in the palm of your hand.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 'au: supernatural' square on my femslash february femtrope bingo card. goes along with [this](http://8tracks.com/doctorkaitlyn/i-ll-give-you-the-moon-and-stars) fanmix. 
> 
> title from [Bullfighter Jacket](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6TDP89a_rs) by Miniature Tigers. (:

Allison has always disliked dances. Truthfully, she's never really been a fan of _any_ large gathering of humans but dances have always been particularly insufferable. Over the years, she's gone to grand balls and proms, sock hops and barn dances but no matter what they're called, they're all the same. They're always nothing less than sensory overload. 

But those things, with their crowds of laughing humans and and the promise of _bloodbloodblood_ in every direction? Bad as they were, she'd rather go to a dozen sock hops if it meant she never had to go to a rave again.

There's at least two hundred humans packed into a space that used to be a warehouse. The music seems to be reverberating off each of the pockmarked metal walls and the room is alight with color, changing with each beat of the music. Breathing in through her nose is a nightmare; the whole place stinks, of sweat and sugary alcohol, of flowery perfume and sex. 

But even though the place makes her skin crawl, she plasters a fake smile on her face and pretends to sip at some neon-colored concoction. Looking miserable will undoubtedly attract attention, from some drunk man hoping to help spice her night up. If there's one thing Allison _doesn't_ want to deal with, it's that. She doesn't think she'd be able to control herself. 

Five more minutes go by, each feeling like an infinity. When no one's looking, she pours her drink on the floor and orders another one. She goes back to pretending to drink and forcing herself to sway to the screeching music. It's another ten minutes before she finally hears what she's been waiting for. One voice rises above the din, the words as clear as if they'd been yelled right into her ear.

"Allison, you ready?" 

"Yes," Allison says in return, knowing that she'll be heard even over the constant laughter and thudding bass. "I've been ready this whole time."

"I'm sorry. Coming?" A giggle cuts through the air but this one is different. Unlike the laughter coming from all directions, which Allison has spent the last half hour hating, this is a giggle she's always loved. She whips her head around and, on the other side of the room, she catches a glimpse of long, strawberry-blonde hair disappearing into the shadows. 

Allison drops her still-full drink onto the bar and moves, easily darting through the empty spaces between the dancers, weaving her way around waving arms and grinding bodies. In mere seconds, she's crossed the room. The strobe lights barely reach this far; they're hardly bright enough to illuminate the door set into the wall. It's half-ajar, leading into an alleyway that's remarkably dark, even to her enhanced vision. She steps outside, closes the door behind her and, with a quick twist of her wrist, breaks off the handle. 

She's in no mood to be interrupted. 

There's only two other people in the alley. One is a man with short, spiked up blond hair; Allison can smell the hair gel, mingled together with the cheap cologne he's wearing. He's backed up against the wall, arms pinned at his side by the girl standing in front of him. She's wearing a floral dress and sharp heels and her hair cascades down her back, ending just above her waist. Even though the guy is attractive in a conventional, frat-boy way, Allison barely pays attention to him. 

She only ever has eyes for Lydia.

"Did you invite a friend?" the guy asks, plastering a smirk on his face. 

"Mmhm," Lydia hums, wrapping her fingers around the guy's wrists. "You don't mind, do you?" Her voice is so syrupy sweet that Allison can't help but gag a bit. 

"Hell no. More the merrier," the guy exclaims, chuckling a little bit.

"Good," Lydia murmurs, looking back over her shoulder. As Allison moves closer, she watches as Lydia's fangs slide out, brushing over her glossy lips. Allison's press through her gums in response and the closer she gets to the guy, the more her throat and stomach burn. 

She's so _thirsty._

When Lydia turns back to the guy, his grin fades away and his heartbeat abruptly spikes, thudding louder than the music inside. His eyes go huge and wide and the smell of fear rolls off him in waves. 

"What the _fuck_?" he yelps, fingers scrabbling at the wall. 

"It's nothing personal," Lydia says with a shrug, right before she swoops in and presses her fangs into the side of his neck. His mouth drops open to scream but before he can make a sound, Allison closes the remaining distance between them. She slams her hand over his mouth hard enough to make his teeth crack. She licks up a wayward drip of blood that Lydia missed before she bites the other side of the man's neck, fangs sliding into his carotid artery. 

The first gush of blood is so powerful that Allison can't help but moan and close her eyes. Lydia's always had a gift for finding victims with blood like ambrosia and this is no exception. It quenches the burning thirst in Allison's throat, settling warm in her stomach like a ball of flame. 

Between the two of them, it only takes a few moments to completely drain him. When his arteries no longer spout blood, they both step away and his body slides to the ground with a thud. Allison sighs and leans against the wall, completely sated. They'll have to leave soon, to avoid detection, but she needs a moment to come down a bit. Her head is spinning but this time, it's not from the horrible music and the overwhelming smells. It's from the purest kind of high, the incomparable sensation of bloodlust. 

"I'm sorry it took so long," Lydia murmurs, stepping forward and circling Allison's waist with her arms. "Everyone in there just smelled so _awful._ They would have tasted like garbage." 

"It's fine," Allison says, brushing her hand through Lydia's thick, soft hair. "But next time, we're going somewhere quieter. Somewhere darker." 

"Of course, babe. We can go wherever you want." She presses a kiss to the underside of Allison's jaw, right where her pulse once throbbed, so long ago that Allison sometimes has trouble remembering it. She means to return the kiss on Lydia's forehead but when she opens her eyes again, she gets distracted by Lydia's fangs. They're still stained red and while it's possible that it's just lipstick, Allison has to find out for herself.

While blood may taste like heaven when it's warm and gushing down Allison's throat, even after two centuries together, she still prefers how it tastes when she licks it from Lydia's mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
